Wear Purple Day
Today is Wear Purple Day. It's to show your support to gay children and teens, and any other kid who's being bullied. More details here. While I am a major supporter of this cause (and all of the other purple-colored causes this month, including Domestic Violence Awareness and Lupus), I can't find my purple shirt. Not that it really matters since I'm not leaving the house and thus my support will only be noticed by Mom and Sis, who already know how important this cause is to me.
My story: I was bullied throughout elementary school, and a good chunk of middle school. (And just a little bit of high school, too.) All of these things happened in public school. Once I moved to my private school in the spring of my sophomore year, I never had another problem.
I started being picked on and cast aside beginning in first grade. There was just something about me that the kids found weird. My only idea is that I was the smartest girl in the class, and a complete perfectionist, and thus excelled at everything, way past the point anyone else did. On top of this, I wore glasses (Dad's an ophthalmologist, and thus had me wearing reading glasses starting in 3rd grade to hopefully keep me from becoming as near-sighted as my mother... I have to say it did work.), those lovely giant frosted rims and a neck chain, just to be really nerdy, and I had a strange fashion sense. I would do things like wear a pink and blue striped shirt, a pink jumpsuit over that, one pink sock and one blue sock, and then pink shoes. I was never with the fashion trends of the rest of the class. I was basically shunned by everyone. I would only have one close friend a year, and they would then get tired of me and move on. Only Lindsey stuck with me from 3rd grade on. A couple of girls I considered good friends in 5th grade cornered me behind a portable one day and, in unison, yelled, "Bye, Bitch!!" I ran to my mom's car crying like crazy.
6th grade at the middle school was much worse. For some fucked up reason, the district decided that they needed to mix the student population, so they had the kids from the surrounding neighborhoods (all middle to upper-middle class) and then bussed in groups of students from the poorest, most dangerous part of Austin to the school. It took them two hours to get to the school every morning. They hated being there, because they didn't really mix in. The socio-economic split was just too much. The kids from the east side would fight constantly, talked about being in gangs (and being jumped into them), girls of 12-13 talked about having sex, and some would bring knives and other weapons to school. (In 7th grade, backpacks were forbidden to be used, because too many students were sneaking weapons around campus.) I, for some unknown reason, made an excellent target for horrible bullying in 6th grade. At my locker, girls would run by and yank out chunks of my hair, or try to slam the locker closed on my hands. In the cafeteria, they'd yank my hair severely, or push me hard into the table. After telling my mother this, she and I went to the vice principal, and finally got the several girls kicked out. However, I ended up with a new type of bullying after that. I had started to develop, and had begun wearing training bras (the women in my family are well-endowed, and it sucks). One of the popular boys decided that I was stuffing my bra. So he spread this rumor that I was, and the nickname "Stove Top Stuffin'" came into existence. This name stuck around for the next 2 years. (I did once get to talk to Clayton alone at the end of 8th grade and ask him why he started the rumor. He had no answer.) I was starting to make friends in band, but wasn't really close to anyone yet. All of the stress of being so tormented was really getting to me. I was already incredibly depressed because of what was happening inside our home (Dad abusing me at night, my frustration that mom couldn't see what was wrong and leave him, etc.). The added unhappiness that came with being the focus of so much ridicule caused me to be very seriously depressed. Thankfully, just as I was starting to seriously contemplate ending it all, I gained my close group of band friends. They were my shield. Our unspoken vow was that if one was picked on, the rest were going to set the bully straight. We would stand up for the victim, so they wouldn't be alone. My friends saved me. I still went through some tough shit, particularly once when one of our "friends" created a story about me hating one of the popular girls in band, just so she could launch herself into the popular group. Everyone thought that was crappy, and shunned that girl from there on out.
In middle school and high school, I ended up being sick a lot, and missed a ton of school. I'd be out for a week at times. (Of course, all of my illnesses were somatized stress from what was happening to me at night). However, I got a reputation as a hypochondriac, and as someone who faked illness to stay out of school. Even my friends at times thought that. When I got Mono fall of my sophomore year, I became known as "The Girl Who Wasn't There."
Do me a favor, please. If you have kids, nieces or nephews, grandchildren, etc., please talk to them about bullying. Tell them that it's NOT okay to ever pick on someone because they're different. Even if they look weird, or sound funny, or dress strangely, it's NOT okay. Teach them that they should stand up to a bully if they see someone picking on someone else. Tell them that just standing up against a bully once for someone makes such a big difference in those peoples' lives FOREVER.
My story: I was bullied throughout elementary school, and a good chunk of middle school. (And just a little bit of high school, too.) All of these things happened in public school. Once I moved to my private school in the spring of my sophomore year, I never had another problem.
I started being picked on and cast aside beginning in first grade. There was just something about me that the kids found weird. My only idea is that I was the smartest girl in the class, and a complete perfectionist, and thus excelled at everything, way past the point anyone else did. On top of this, I wore glasses (Dad's an ophthalmologist, and thus had me wearing reading glasses starting in 3rd grade to hopefully keep me from becoming as near-sighted as my mother... I have to say it did work.), those lovely giant frosted rims and a neck chain, just to be really nerdy, and I had a strange fashion sense. I would do things like wear a pink and blue striped shirt, a pink jumpsuit over that, one pink sock and one blue sock, and then pink shoes. I was never with the fashion trends of the rest of the class. I was basically shunned by everyone. I would only have one close friend a year, and they would then get tired of me and move on. Only Lindsey stuck with me from 3rd grade on. A couple of girls I considered good friends in 5th grade cornered me behind a portable one day and, in unison, yelled, "Bye, Bitch!!" I ran to my mom's car crying like crazy.
6th grade at the middle school was much worse. For some fucked up reason, the district decided that they needed to mix the student population, so they had the kids from the surrounding neighborhoods (all middle to upper-middle class) and then bussed in groups of students from the poorest, most dangerous part of Austin to the school. It took them two hours to get to the school every morning. They hated being there, because they didn't really mix in. The socio-economic split was just too much. The kids from the east side would fight constantly, talked about being in gangs (and being jumped into them), girls of 12-13 talked about having sex, and some would bring knives and other weapons to school. (In 7th grade, backpacks were forbidden to be used, because too many students were sneaking weapons around campus.) I, for some unknown reason, made an excellent target for horrible bullying in 6th grade. At my locker, girls would run by and yank out chunks of my hair, or try to slam the locker closed on my hands. In the cafeteria, they'd yank my hair severely, or push me hard into the table. After telling my mother this, she and I went to the vice principal, and finally got the several girls kicked out. However, I ended up with a new type of bullying after that. I had started to develop, and had begun wearing training bras (the women in my family are well-endowed, and it sucks). One of the popular boys decided that I was stuffing my bra. So he spread this rumor that I was, and the nickname "Stove Top Stuffin'" came into existence. This name stuck around for the next 2 years. (I did once get to talk to Clayton alone at the end of 8th grade and ask him why he started the rumor. He had no answer.) I was starting to make friends in band, but wasn't really close to anyone yet. All of the stress of being so tormented was really getting to me. I was already incredibly depressed because of what was happening inside our home (Dad abusing me at night, my frustration that mom couldn't see what was wrong and leave him, etc.). The added unhappiness that came with being the focus of so much ridicule caused me to be very seriously depressed. Thankfully, just as I was starting to seriously contemplate ending it all, I gained my close group of band friends. They were my shield. Our unspoken vow was that if one was picked on, the rest were going to set the bully straight. We would stand up for the victim, so they wouldn't be alone. My friends saved me. I still went through some tough shit, particularly once when one of our "friends" created a story about me hating one of the popular girls in band, just so she could launch herself into the popular group. Everyone thought that was crappy, and shunned that girl from there on out.
In middle school and high school, I ended up being sick a lot, and missed a ton of school. I'd be out for a week at times. (Of course, all of my illnesses were somatized stress from what was happening to me at night). However, I got a reputation as a hypochondriac, and as someone who faked illness to stay out of school. Even my friends at times thought that. When I got Mono fall of my sophomore year, I became known as "The Girl Who Wasn't There."
Do me a favor, please. If you have kids, nieces or nephews, grandchildren, etc., please talk to them about bullying. Tell them that it's NOT okay to ever pick on someone because they're different. Even if they look weird, or sound funny, or dress strangely, it's NOT okay. Teach them that they should stand up to a bully if they see someone picking on someone else. Tell them that just standing up against a bully once for someone makes such a big difference in those peoples' lives FOREVER.